


What we see in the Mirror

by MockerDelight



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton, Bleach, Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, As in line with the manga, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Casually twisting mythology and folklore for my own ends, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Compilation, F/F, F/M, Fic Ideas that may never be finished, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Other, minorly inaccurate depiction of actual viking age culture, nordic mythology & folklore, secret relatives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 15:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20530388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MockerDelight/pseuds/MockerDelight
Summary: CH.1Thorfinn is an unholy mix between beings that are really not meant to mix, this is a snatch of him dealing with his disappointingly mortal honor and the fae-bait he follows around.CH.2Anita Blake decides to adopt her sister--no the other one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> VInland saga my angel, my darling.

After that story a stunned stillness settled over Thorfinn. As always the rage bubbled, but—but Askeladd’s story stuck like a bone between his molars. Bjorn’s words rattled in his skull. His wings twitched and his skin burned with the cold and the beginnings of bruises to layer over more of his hurt.

“What are you doing?”

Askeladd asked, low and dangerous.

Thorfinn didn’t answer as he knelt over the corpse of the last member of Askeladd’s band. That membrane of death still hung its pall, that which made Bjorn a person lingering. It made an instinct that Thorfinn had always ignored rise in his chest, and made a nothing like the space between stars seep from the corpse’s death wound.

“You said we’d fight when I heal.”

It was an excuse, but Thorfinn would never admit it. He lifted the covering, only to drop it with a hiss when Askeladd gripped his bum arm with a hold of iron.

He glared into the mans enraged eyes and leaned down quick as a snake, ignoring Thorkell’s delighted little whoop of realization when his lips made contact with the dead man’s slack mouth. Askeladd made an incredulous sound and yanked him, too late. In that second Thorfinn _breathed_, sucking down Bjorn’s death like light mead. It tasted _glorious_, like honey-bread and sugar.

Valkyries came to the worthy on the battlefield, the warriors who died the most violent, most honorable deaths. As Thorfinn was thrown, eyelids fluttering and arm bones snapping into place like puzzle pieces, he thought there was a reason more than Valhalla for it.

“You—,”

“Odin’s empty fucking _eye socket!”_

Bjorn knifed into sitting position, coughing up a lung, feeling his chest and stomach for wounds that no longer existed.

Askeladd and Canute stared in stunned silence as Thorfinn rolled his eyes and began to unwrap his splint.

“Bjorn?”

Askeladd’s voice came out a thread, disbelieving thing.

The dark-haired man turned to him, eyes wild, and opened his mouth.

“You said Thorsson, not Thorsdottir!” Thorkell boomed, picking Thorfinn up in the most uncomfortable hold he’d even been subjected to. That list also included attempted murder.

“I’m a boy,” he said into his great-uncle’s chest, for little else to do, only it came out more like, “I’m a’bss.”

Canute nearly leapt forward.

“How did you do that?” the bratty princess demanded, eyes filled with a crazed light, “Bjorn was _dead_.”

Thorfinn squirmed a little to get his head out of the stinking cloth of Throkell’s chest. He felt floaty, loose-limbed and relaxed.

Without his input his arms came to clutch at Thorkell’s head, and the man adjusted his hold until Thorfinn was sitting on his arm like a child. He felt like he really _had _been in the mead, everything fuzzy and warm, with none of the lurching unpleasantness of drink.

“Answer me!” Canute commanded, taking a step closer.

Thorfinn merely peeled a lip back in answer and buried his face in the in the wonderfully soft, if stinky, hide of Thorkell’s shoulder.

The giant chuckled and Thorfinn hummed musically in reply, enjoying the sensation.

Bjorn and Askeladd’s whispered conversation stopped as the ringing sound died in the snow. It was utterly inhuman; like the low rumbling of drums and the last vibrations of a church-bell.

“You won’t be getting much out of her,” Thorkell rumbled, much to Thorfinn’s delight—odd feeling that, “Valkyrie can get like this after eating a man’s death, ‘specially young ones.”

Askeladd’s eyes were sharp.

“Valkyrie?”

Canute watched desperately, eyes following every breath Thorfinn took as the other boy began to scowl and shiver.

“Well—”

A hand rose up to tug on Thorkell’s hair like a petulant child.

“Inside.” Thorfinn said, eyes drooping, “Insi_~de,” _the end of his word drifted into the rumbling of war drums.

Bjorn shivered, a choked “Shit,” falling from his numb lips.

“We can discuss this inside,” Canute decided, “let us go to my abode.”

Thorfinn wasn’t so far gone that he giggled, but he swung his legs a little when his great uncle started to move, a huff of amusement leaving him.

He caught Askeladd’s eye as he helped Bjorn up and couldn’t help but smile in delight at the shaken pale look on his face.

“Hup,” Thorkell said with good cheer, and switched Thorfinn to his other arm, jostling his back.

Thorfinn huffed a short laugh before groaning.

“G’runkle, wings,” he complained as he tucked his nose near the man’s ear.

“Wings?” he heard Askeladd mutter.

.

.

.

Thorfinn gave a delighted shout when Thorkell threw him onto the furs in one corner of Canute’s hall, pleased with the warm sensation and the crackling fire. He ignored the slave that hurried out, dismissed by the prince. Unworried, he began to squirm out of his shirt.

“Thorfinn what—,”

With a displacement of air his two sets of wings unfolded, impossibly large from the constraint of his back. Everyone went silent as he stretched them, pinions brushing the rafters, before settling the black-barred feathers in a content ruffle.

“Thorkell—explain, now.”

Thorkell yawned and went to the casks of mead set to the side of the hall, speaking as he filled a nearby tankard.

“Not much to explain little Prince,” he said and wandered over to lean in a chair, he passed a lazy hand over one of Thorfinn’s stretched wings on the way, drawing a pleased shiver from the boy.

Bjorn ran a shaky hand over his beard, untangling a bit matted with blood.

“There’s a bit to explain, Thorkell—I was _dead.”_

Canute turned to gaze at Thorfinn, who was tucked into a ball of feathers and fur and watching them all with eyes that glowed amber in place of his usual muddy brown.

“Lucky turn, that,” Thorkell acknowledged with a laugh, “I’m amazed she stopped at that instead of eating you whole.”

Askeladd’s eyes glittered as he leaned forward, hands braced on the table.

“He was planning to eat him alive? As some kind of beast?”

Thorfinn hissed inhumanly at the insult and bared his teeth, feeling a bit of satisfaction when Askeladd braced into a steadier stance in anticipation for an attack.

“No,” he snapped, waspish, “I just stopped halfway to eating the rest of ‘is light—god’ta bring the death back in, then suck the rest out, like bone marrow.”

Canute’s mouth was a pale slash across his face.

“You would have devoured his immortal soul?”

The would-be king clutched at the cloth over his heart, brows twitching into a distressed frown.

Thorfinn rolled his eyes and didn’t deign him with an answer.

Thorkell laughed.

“Don’t be like that kid—Valkyrie spend their days taking in the spirits of the worthy and when they collect enough they go to Valhalla. It’s an honor to be devoured.”

“That—,”

“You called him Thorsdottir,” Askeladd said, sending the room into deadly quiet. Thorfinn scowled and mourned the slowly draining high from eating Bjorn’s death. He tucked his wings more thoroughly around the telling dip in the curve of his waist.

Thorkell nodded along.

“Aye, that I did—Valkyrie only manifest in the women of our line.” He untied his headband and pulled away his hair to show a small crown of feathers tucked into the back of his skull. “All my family get these, but only battle maidens mature into getting wings and hunger. My niece Helga though war was nonsense and preferred the hearth to the battlefield.”

Thorfinn tilted his head, curious at the information, but not terribly surprised. In his memories his mother was always gentle, always kind; like the woman who called him John.

“I’m a boy,” he corrected flatly, “got a dick and everything.”

Thorkell turned a surprised look to him.

“Really? That’s odd.”

Thorfinn shifted, the reluctant explanation stringing past his lips.

“Not really,” his gaze flickered to Askeladd and Bjorn, “when we ended up at that mountain fort in North Denmark—my father, they called him the Troll of Jom.”

Askeladd’s gaze flickered and he looked confused, like he wasn’t quite following. Bjorn’s expression cleared with realization.

“No fuckin’ way your father was an actual Jotuun, you little shit,” he breathed.

Thorfinn bristled his wings.

“Fuck off! He had an ancestor from those damn mountains and I had to fight a godsdamned duel to keep your stupid ass out of a cooking pit.”

He pointed an accusing finger at Askeladd.

“For someone so fuckin’ smug about being a smartass, you are shit all aware of all the fuckin’ spirits and shit that want to eat you for dinner.”

He stood and shrugged his tunic on, feeling the shivering cold of letting his wings pass through the back of the fabric.

“If its not rawhides in the fuckin’ bushes, its Sidhe trying to crawl into your bed—I kill you Askeladd, nothing else.”

Canute’s look was cold, calculating.

“You’ve been protecting everyone—I knew I saw you that night, I thought I was dreaming.”

Thorfinn snorted in aggravated discomfort, his feathered crown bristling and resettling.

“_Two of great blood,” _he imitated in a high mocking voice, remembering the satisfaction of grinding the forest spirits under his boot for daring mess with _his _band of prey—pirates. “_Oh he would taste so lovely, oh that one would look so pretty—_fuckin’ annoying Winter shits.”

He snatched some dried meat from the storage near the mead and chewed, trying to beat out the empty ache that pushed him to seal his lips over Bjorn’s and finish his feeding.

Disgusting.

Thorkell tapped a fist in one large palm.

“Ah, part Jotuun makes a good bit of sense,” he nods, but to the surprise of everyone in the room Askeladd admitted with scowl that he had no idea what the connection meant.

“Jotuun are shape shifters, boss,” Bjorn explained, “they ain’t usually constrained to being man or woman.”

Askeladd lifted a brow and ran a look over Thorfinn, who had his belt unhitched and looked more like he was in a dress than a tunic.

“You can change into a woman?”

Thorfinn’s lip peeled back over his teeth again.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

No point in telling them it was more like he was a mix between the two. No predicting what they’d think they were entitled to if they knew what was between his legs. He wasn’t some meek woman, and even then his opinion could be surmised into the thought of ‘all men are trash’. Not one of them knowing what the hell to do with the meat swinging between their legs.

His ears reddened slightly when he thought back to Alden, the Jotunn from a year or so ago. They’d been so impressed with his prowess, and well, Thorfinn had been curious.

It had led him to a lot of realizations about the follies of men and their skewed view of sex.

“It seems rather relevant,” Canute interrupted, “it would be an incredible boon to our cause if you could shapeshift.”

Thorfinn scowled.

“I can’t shift, princess—_and I’m not woman.” _He reiterated. Best drive that one home quick.

Askeladd mouth opened, he wasn’t even pretending to not be skeptical.

Thorfinn made a rude gesture with his hand before the man could get a word out as he opened the door to leave. He ignored all of Canute’s desperate protests as he stepped out into the snow.

“Now, if you’ll fucking excuse me; I have to go exorcise some fucking demons.”

The work was never-ending, but it wasn’t like he could give any of the spirits and leeway. His newly shrunk pool of prey—no, _pirates_ would be gobbled up in an instant if he let the things brought by the King’s retinue wander freely.

If he played his cards right he might be able to catch one in a jar or something, for a snack later.

“_What?”_

The rest was lost as he shut the door and took off.


	2. Anita AU (with added Bleach for flavor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another of my abandoned and unsure works, something that came to mind that I don't see myself picking up for a long while. Especially considering I can't really get through the first few books of the Anita Blake series anymore without getting slightly nauseous. Note that I made some changes in worldbuilding because fuck lkh thats why.

I groaned into my pillow, squinting at the display on my clock. Neon glared at me and proclaimed it was Too Damn Early to be hearing the piercing rattle of my cell phone beating at my eardrums. I was tempted to throw the little plastic monster at the wall, but I was a responsible adult so I checked the caller ID first. I snorted and coughed in surprise when my father’s name stared back at me. Groggy, I forced myself up to my knees and clicked the green receive call button. My father liked to ignore the fact that his animator daughter existed most of the time. I could count on one hand the amount of times he’d voluntarily called me since I’d first left home for college when I was eighteen. I barely got up to two hands if I included the instances he paid me the time of day after I ended up at my grandmother’s house.

“Hello?” I rasped.

I heard a startled breath on the other end, like he hadn’t expected me to answer. It made me ache, because I should have left the phone to ring. The little girl who sat in her father’s lap and loved to listen to the sound of his heartbeat still lived in my chest, though. So I’d picked up without thinking.

“Anita,” he said, hesitance in his voice, “did I wake you up?”

I pushed errant curls from my face and rubbed at my crusty eyes. I’d done a few raisings last night and barely been in bed for four hours. No rest for the wicked or errant necromancers.

“Yeah, but its fine. What do you need Dad?”

There was shuffling on the other side of the line, probably him shifting the receiver to his other shoulder. He’d always did that when he was uncomfortable with a topic on the phone.

“I—honey,” he coughed, and I couldn’t help the kernel of resentment and warmth that fought in my chest at the endearment, “we—Judith and I, well it’s,” he sighed and finally blurted out what he wanted to say, “you have a new sister.”

I waited.

He said nothing else.

“Okay,” I drawled as I settled into a cross-legged position and pulled my favorite stuffed penguin Sigmund into my lap. I didn’t see the point of the call; its not like Judith liked me enough to invite me to the baby shower or anything.

“Congratulations to Judith, I guess.”

My father drew a ragged breath.

“She’s not Judith’s.”

I almost dropped my phone in surprise.

“What?” I nearly yelled.

He proceeded to tell me the whole story in stutters and short shameful bursts of noise. After my mother died, when he’d retreated from everyone and everything, he’d ended up in bed with a Japanese woman on a business trip. He’d been drunk and grieving and he never remembered whether or not either of them used a condom. He didn’t get any calls so he’d pushed the event from his mind. That stuff always came to bite you in the ass.

The _Chō Shizen-Kyoku, _or Bureau of Supernatural Affairs in Japan had contacted him and Judith last week. In a raid on a den of unknown preternatural beings they’d discovered two human children. One of them was the child of my dad’s irresponsible one-night stand, and seeing as her relatives in Japan wanted nothing to do with the kid he was their next best bet.

“I had to do it, you understand, right?” he said, sounding miserable, “She’d end up in an orphanage and her English is good enough and—and, Anita, she raised the neighbor’s hamster yesterday.”

My skin went cold.

“What—how?”

What were the chances that my father would sleep with another woman with magical heritage? Or was it the other way around? Maybe I’d guessed wrong and my animator blood came from both sides of my family, it wasn’t like my father’s parents were very concerned with their heritage.

“Their boy Harry was heartbroken and he was talking to her over the—the thing was in a damn shoebox, and she said she’d help him say goodbye. Then the damn thing started moving around and his mother, Brenda, near had a heart attack.”

I was startled to hear my father curse like that; he was usually so prim with his language, always saying that cursing was for the unintelligent.

“She looked at us like we were crazy when we told her that she couldn’t do it and now she’s raising every damn thing with four legs in the neighborhood—Anita we don’t know what to do.”

I could feel the request looming like some kind of dark shadow, knowing the words that were going to come out of his mouth next. Grandma was dead; squeaky-clean Judith definitely didn’t know any animators that could help, and here I was, the estranged daughter one state over with a job as an animator and a major in Preternatural Biology.

My childhood beat a drum in my temples; images of my family’s fearful looks and my grandmother’s grim face flashing in my mind like the lights of a siren.

My lips moved without any input from my brain.

“I’ll do it.”

He paused.

“What?”

I sighed and rolled out of bed, making my way to the kitchen.

“That’s what you want to ask, right? You want me to take her and teach her how to not be a freak.”

I emptied the last of my coffee grounds into the maker with a grimace, making a note to grab a bag next time I went out. The thing turned on with a slight hiss and began to slowly drip coffee into the pot.

“Anita you’re not being fair,” my father said, relief battling with exasperation.

I didn’t let him get any farther than that.

“That’s the whole reason for this little call, right?” I asked harshly, practically slamming the empty bag into my trashcan. It went in with a disappointing lack of force and a pitiful wheeze of plastic.

“You don’t want her freakiness infecting Josh, or God forbid Adriana, so you want the black sheep to make her more normal and less ‘grotesque’.”

You could hear the quotations in my voice; Judith had never been very subtle about her feelings about animation.

“Anita you can’t—,” his voice took a scolding edge, but I cut him off again.

“Look, it doesn’t matter—I’ll take her, I have an extra room and the high school is a few blocks away. I’ll figure it out, just tell me when to pick her up.”

He only said it weakly, not even really a protest.

“You don’t even know her name.”

I frowned, seeing my severe look in the reflection of my microwave as I waited for my coffee to brew like staring at it would somehow make it go faster.

“Then tell me,” I practically snarled. My head was already ticking through necessities. Fuck, I was barely twenty-four; what the hell did I know about taking care of a teenager?

It was better than leaving her there, after whatever traumatic series of events that ended with her in the hands of the supernatural monsters she was rescued from. Having to live with a family that would sneer in disgust at her for something she couldn’t control would be the worst kind of reward for her suffering.

He made a good effort, but the foreign syllables came from him awkwardly slurred.

“Her name’s Ururu Tsumigaya.”

I felt my eyebrow tick up and resolved to ask the kid how to pronounce her name when I met her.

“Good to know,” was my only reply, “when are you dropping her off?”

A few days later I was waiting in front of my apartment building in a thick winter coat when my dad’s car pulled up. I’d been in efficiency mode since I hung up on him. I’d been clearing out the extra room in my apartment and moving stuff into storage: old textbooks, clothing that I kept forgetting to take to the Goodwill, extra bags and briefcases. Then I’d had to call into work for the next week, to help Ururu get settled and assemble the bed set in under two days. Bert, my boss at Animators Inc., had been less that pleased since I was one of the best animators on the team. Family came first, so he could go sit on one and spin.

I was pretty proud of the room I put together, but I hesitated to buy a new bedspread, so I put on my old set and resolved to take my half-sister shopping for a new one.

Hopefully she’d be fine with a twin, I wasn’t rolling in money after all.

Jeez, I’d have to sign her up for school too. Didn’t I need to get her ID for that or something? I hoped she had her papers.

Judith was the first one out of the car, her face pulled into a severe frown as my dad turned down the engine and Josh squirmed out of his seat onto the curb.

My half-brother turned to encourage someone to follow him out, and I got a glimpse of the girl I’d taken responsibility for.

_Droopy._

I couldn’t help my first thought; her expression was just so hangdog, and the way she ducked away from eye contact made me want to tell her to stand up straight. Look at that, I’m already acting like a parent in my own head.

“Anita,” Josh greeted me, cheerful, “this is Ururu.”

Judith sighed out a cloud of fog as my father joined her on the curb.

“That can wait until we get inside—put on your hats; both of you.”

Josh rolled his eyes as Ururu shoved her own hat low over her hair and refused to answer or meet anyone’s gaze.

My dad patted his wife’s arm.

“The door’s a few feet away,” he teased, and Judith smirked at him and tugged on the string of his coat.

I rolled my eyes at their lovey-dovey crap and held out a fist to my little brother, which he gladly knocked with his knuckles.

“What’s up shortie?” I asked, even though I was forehead to nose with the kid. He got all his tall genes from Judith, I swear; while here I was, struggling to get them to list my height as five foot on my ID card. Rounding up by a half inch was totally valid.

“Nothing much BigFoot,” he answered with a mischievous glint in his eye.

I would have teased him and started a good-natured bickering session, but a gust of wind lifted the edges of my coat and sent me shivering.

“It’s nice to meet you Ururu,” I said instead and tried not to be offended when she didn’t look up from the ground. This past month must have been rough for the girl; I shouldn’t hold her being a little reserved against her.

I turned with an exaggerated shiver and opened the door to the stairs leading up to my apartment from the parking lot. Josh was chattering behind me, voice soft as he talked to Ururu about all the stuff that was cool and ‘hip’ in St. Louis. Which were vampires, mostly. Not a lot happened in the city I called home, other than the ridiculous undead population. It was one of the reasons I was based here as a court mandated executioner.

Hearing him stutter over landmines by deliberately not mentioning the supernatural was like watching a baby deer stumble around on weak legs; adorable and amusing.

I smiled to myself as I unlocked my door and let my family inside. Josh was a bright kid and I hoped beyond anything that the dark and horrible realities of the world never touched him.

I fought off a sudden surge of anxiety as I removed my shoes. I couldn’t help watching my dad and Judith as I put our coats in the closet; everything in my apartment was neat, free of dust and impeccable. I still felt that childish dread that my parents would find some flaw and set me to cleaning without computer access or something.

Ururu handed off her coat without a fuss, showing off skinny arms and a near skeletal waist through her shirt. She definitely wasn’t eating right.

“Wow, Anita I don’t think you have enough white here,” Josh mocked as he kicked off his shoes and sprawled on the white couch, head landing in the pale pillows I’d put there to liven it up.

“Joshua don’t be rude to your sister, her apartment in lovely,” Jusith scolded, shooting a neutral look at me. An olive branch, even if I didn’t need her mediating between my brother and I as if we were five.

“It has just enough, thank you very much you brat—now put your shoes in the cupboard.”

I pointed to the wooden box near the door where Ururu was unlacing her winter boots, much more practical than Josh’s sneakers. My parents both realized at the same time that they hadn’t removed their own footwear; luckily they hadn’t stepped on the carpet yet. I liked the pale colors for decoration, but it was a bitch to keep dirt out of the carpet.

“I’ll pour some coffee,” I said, not wanting to awkwardly watch them pull off their shoes in my entryway. I’d never had both my dad and Judith at my apartment before, not even Josh had been here. It was always me flying in to visit them, and now here they were with my newly minted animator half sister.

I realized halfway through pouring the coffee that I couldn’t give my siblings this much caffeine. I searched through my cupboards for some hot chocolate and was relieved to find a few untouched packets hidden behind the spices. I microwaved some milk and started pouring again.

I had a sister, a blood sister that shared my talents. A teenager that I’d agreed to take in and teach, who would be looking to me for guidance and love. I leaned my hands on the counter and took a moment to breathe.

A half sister that hadn’t spoken a word since we met; a girl that looked so skinny she could only be starving herself. For all her flaws as a stand-in for my real mother, Judith never let anyone go hungry underneath her roof.

There was a scuff of feet on tile behind me and I barely bit down the urge whip around, elbow leading.

“That for us?” my dad asked.

I gave him a faint grin.

“Yeah, I have some hot cocoa for the kids.”

He returned my look with a wane smile as he grabbed three of the cups.

“You know—Ururu’s a great kid,” he said, eyes downcast.

I snorted.

“I’m sure she is—she’s just not normal enough for you and Judith to handle,” I said, caustically.

He sighed as we made our way out of the kitchen, but he didn’t argue. I was right; their perfect, picket-fence life didn’t account for an oops baby from another country. It also didn’t account for the baggage of _another _child who could reach beyond the veil of death and draw dead corpses back to life.

The one thing that they never seemed to get was that animators couldn’t help the small things when they were growing. When puberty was banging on the doors and windows and power was blooming like errant weeds it needed an outlet. Some witches caused rattling floorboards and random fires; animators raised the neighbor’s dog from his eternal rest.

I was furious inside; ever since I agreed to this thing the anger at my father has been burning in my gut. How could he be this irresponsible? How could they both be _so cold_?

I smiled at Ururu as I handed her a cup of chocolate goodness and settled myself on the loveseat. She met my eyes for just a moment and offered me a slight smile and a nod of thanks. It wasn’t much, but it was progress.

Judith cleared her throat after a beat of silence as everyone awkwardly sipped their drinks.

“Ururu’s things are in the car,” she turned to address the girl, “I know she’s already introduced herself but lets be clear: this is your older sister Anita, she’ll be taking care of you and helping you with your…difficulties from now on.”

Ururu nodded into her cup of chocolate.

Judith grimaced at the lack of response, but let it go, amazingly. I hid my smirk in my cup. I guess it was true what they said about parents letting up discipline the more children they had. I would have gotten a 10-minute lecture for that kind of behavior when I was Ururu’s age.

Josh grabbed one of our sister’s hands.

“And I’ll call when I can!” he offered, “Anita’s super cool and she can raise the dead too, so you two can bond over your creepy powers.”

“Joshua!” my father admonished.

Josh rolled his eyes the way only teenagers could and grinned brilliantly at Ururu, who couldn’t _not _smile in the face of that glowing look. I’m the hardest woman you’ll ever meet, but sometimes Josh could make me melt with that earnest look.

A creaky voice broke the building lecture like iron on glass.

“I am sure it will be fun,” Ururu said, diction precise a way that made it obvious English wasn’t her first language.

Josh’s eyes glittered like she’d bestowed a chest full of riches into his hands. He practically tackled her into the couch with the force of his hug. Her cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment at the sudden contact, but a small, pleased smile lingered on her lips.

My father sighed.

“I’ll go grab your things—come and help me Josh.”

They shuffled out of the apartment with minimal fuss, leaving me alone with Ururu and Judith. My stepmother took a breath and turned to address me, her gaze dragging from the door like it had carried away her last hope.

“I don’t want you to encourage this,” she said, eyes cold as she gestured to my sister.

I felt the scowl pull on my forehead immediately.

“Encourage what?” I snapped, crossing my arms even though I knew her answer.

Judith frowned and her straight spine stiffened even more.

“I wanted Ururu to go to a professional—but your father wanted her to have someone who understood what she might be going through, so here we are—,”

Ururu shrunk into herself, tucking her knees under her chin. I cut into the conversation with vengeance.

“If you’re afraid of her becoming a professional animator, don’t worry—she’ll make that decision all on her own,” I gritted my teeth around the rest of my words, “if you’re afraid of me somehow_ brainwashing_ her into being someone with a personality, I think you need to reexamine your priorities.”

My stepmother’s cheeks flushed.

“That’s not—,”

My brother stumbled back into the room, setting one of dad’s old luggage bags on the floor with a huff.

“How do you even have this much stuff ’Ru?”

Judith snapped her mouth shut immediately, and I was grateful she and my dad refused to argue with me in front of Josh.

My father grunted out a strained noise and Josh stumbled out of his way, allowing the man to stagger in. I stood to go help but my sister beat me to it.

Ururu leapt from the couch and hurriedly took an enormous bag out of my dad’s trembling arms, turning and setting it down in the entryway like it was nothing. I felt my brow tick upward and filed that event away for later.

My father read the room and gestured towards the hall with a strained smile.

“Why don’t you kids go set up the room for Ururu?”

Josh nearly yelled an affirmative and Ururu looked at me for guidance.

“Down the hall, second door on the right—do you need help with that?”

I blinked in shock when Ururu shook her head no and freaking _deadlifted _the bag that’d been giving my dad trouble and slung it onto her shoulder. I could have overlooked her helping my dad set the thing down, that was a controlled fall. Walking down the hall and casually grabbing the case that my brother was struggling with on the way was nearly superhuman.

“I guess not,” I answered myself.

Josh snickered at my look and took off after the girl.

Judith’s expression was sour and my father had an odd quirk to his mouth as he watched them leave.

I went over the vibes I’d been getting from my kid sister—she was absolutely not any kind of therianthrope. My powers as an animator meant I was more sensitive to the energies of people and creatures around me. I was a skill all people like me needed to be able to feel out the souls and energies of the dead.

I hadn’t met a therianthrope yet that could pass as human to my senses.

She definitely had power, she practically glowed with potential, but it didn’t carry any inhuman tint to it—making it entirely hers, without any added supernatural aid.

Judith pushed air through her nose in an irritated sigh.

“I was saying earlier—it has nothing to do with your profession, even if I worry about you putting yourself in danger unnecessarily—,”

I bridled.

“Unnecessary—,”

I tried to talk over her; it would have devolved into us both saying our piece at the same time without getting anything done so my father held up a hand, expression stern.

“Let Judith finish Anita.”

I bit my lip and glared at my stepmother’s ear, not insensitive enough to subject her to eye contact. Like most magical humans and as an animator in particular, I could end up casting minor curses in innocuous accidental ways. Everyone with talent had a Witchcraft Tell when their emotions ran high; mine was pretty common among people with my talent. When I was upset, direct eye contact made peoples vision spotty, I’d once set one of my bullies completely blind for a few hours in middle school.

I mulishly contemplated the fact that non-animators had to deal with making frizzy hair and causing sour milk. I had to be careful not to road rage or one bit of eye contact could end in a fatal accident. Not that I could drive on my own anyway. I wasn’t eligible based on my Witchcraft Tell.

With the legalization of vampires as something close to citizens two years ago, laws involving MII’s, or Magically Inclined Individuals were getting better. Operation of vehicles for Witchcraft Tells that involved sensory interference was still a hard sell for most people, though.

I could understand, but it still pissed me off that I had to carpool or walk to work all the time.

Judith glared at the cushion past my head, well aware of the danger of eye contact from our history of heated arguments.

“_As I was saying_: Ururu’s coming from a difficult situation Anita and I know you’ll have a lot of empathy for her,” Judith closed her eyes and suddenly looked _old, _like she’d aged a decade in under a second, “but she still asks for those creatures that were using her, she refuses to speak to us or even eat. I know we have differences of opinion on how dangerous preternatural are treated, but Anita—I don’t want you to encourage her attachments to the monsters that stole that girl from her mother.”

I low flame lit in my gut, that Judith would think for even a second I’d come down on any side other than a humans, made me want to throw my mug of lukewarm coffee at the wall. Being an MII and advocating for our right was an _oceans _difference than coming down on the side of vampires and their ilk. I was a fucking executioner for God’s sake.

My father picked up the thread before I could speak up, leaning his arms on the back of the couch.

“The Bureau wasn’t exactly clear about what happened, but they had to unravel multiple enchantments from Ururu before they could even think of removing her from the area of her hometown—not only that, but they had no idea what cast the enchantments in the first place.”

I bit my thumbnail at that and said goodbye to my carefully filed look for the next week, because I was sure that this whole situation would be taken out on my nail beds for the foreseeable future.

Monsters, ghouls and witches had been a part of society for all of our history. Before globalization and the printing press, they’d mostly been relegated to legend and campfire stories. The last 500 or so years had been a catch-up game for most of society, when the first intact vampire remains were brought to public attention through the University of Montpellier. Other countries had their own histories involving the supernatural, but that instance was what truly began spreading to the western world that the myths you were told as a child had more than just fanciful dreams made to scare children in into compliance.

Theories say that that had been one of the events that could pin down a definite turning point, but the truth was that populations were growing on all sides of the equation and secrecy was becoming a losing battle either way.

The Japanese government had taken a rather quiet stance on supernatural creatures, building compendiums and libraries of research on the species that coexisted with them. In the last five years they’d come out with a regulatory law that required all supernatural denizens of Japan to come forward to be identified as full citizens, with all the benefits and restrictions thereof, with the requirement of wearing identification of their species.

A lot of monsters relied on anonymity, especially man-eaters, so most of them scoffed at the idea that any creature of power would submit to that kind of restriction.

Then Japan used all that knowledge they gathered over the centuries to cull any supernatural that didn’t come forward.

Suffice to say, the law was obeyed strictly.

A supernatural creature that was powerful and secretive enough to avoid identification by the Japanese government was a terrifying prospect. It was no wonder they’d found a way to ship Ururu halfway across the world, I doubted it would be an easy battle to keep her from the clutches of a creature like that, without the added stress of keeping her from running right back into the thing’s arms.

Stockholm syndrome was becoming a very real worry.

“We don’t do this lightly Anita—we just can’t handle this on top of everything with Josh—,”

I cut over him, sharp as a knife.

“What happened to Josh?”

My stepmother took a shaky breath.

“They had a guest speaker for the National Guard come to his school a few days ago—from the clairvoyance division.”

Not unusual, a lot of psychics with that particular talent ended up on rescue and retrieval teams in the military. As a broad description: unlike witches they had only one specific talent, with minor sensing abilities. It also helped enchant kids into joining the military when they came as guest speakers and made the mic stand float over the crowd.

My dad grimaced.

“They asked for volunteers to get read for minor talents or magical affinity,” he said.

I felt my stomach drop. It was pretty standard procedure and having an affinity wasn’t unusual. You needed at least a little affinity to use magic items and a lot of people couldn’t do much of anything with that information other than have a bright future in Spell R&D at some universities. The way he said it though, it made dread pool in my chest.

Judith looked like she wanted to cry and it made my skin prickle. The woman who’d helped raise me had never been anything but stalwart. She was the kind of woman who didn’t believe in letting people see you sweat.

“He read as a dormant Rank I,” she rasped.

I slumped against the back of my chair and gulped down a mouthful of coffee.

“Fuck,” I said, with feeling.

Judith snorted and buried her face in her hands.

The official ranking system instated by the U.S Supernatural Research Board, USSRB to abbreviate it, had classifications for psychics. They also had them for other MII’s, but that was a whole other kettle of fish.

The ranks went from IV-I; people with minor powers of clairvoyance and empathy on the lower ends and people like firebugs and hijackers in the highest ranks. Rank I’s were a one in a million find, because the scope of their power put them straight to execution when they were discovered before the court ruling of _Gregors v. Arland _in 1972, that listed them among the ranks of witches and therefore protected under the 1950’s Witching Hour laws. But, not a lot of family lines survived that kind of determined, systematic genocide.

A firebug without control could burn down entire _cities_ if given the chance.

“Dormant?” I reiterated, just to make sure.

My father nodded.

I sighed and kneaded my forehead. What a clusterfuck.

“You can’t have him near Ururu at all, shit—fuck,” I slammed my fist into the armrest, setting my cup on the table so I wouldn’t _actually _throw it into a wall.

“Language,” Judith smiled humorlessly.

My dad finally rounded the couch and took a seat next to his wife, pulling her to lean on his shoulder.

“_I _can’t be near him,” I whispered as I leaned over my knees and covered my eyes.

Dormant powers didn’t stay dormant for long if they were exposed to too much magic radiation. Like, for example, your new half-sister shedding power left and right and calling the entirety of the pet cemetery to your door.

That much power in one person could be mentally damaging, to the point that most Rank I’s ended up on a strict anti-psychotic regimen to keep them from destroying everything around them in a fit of pique.

Judith’s voice wobbled.

“No,” she said, almost teary, “I looked it up, you’ll be fine, you have control and if everything goes right so will Ururu—we’ll all be absolutely _fine_.”

I laughed to myself. Judith being positive, imagine that.

I breathed in, filling my lungs and then expelling the air along with the negative energy that had begun swelling around me. It grounded itself in the quartz on my coffee table, blackening the greying crystal even more.

I’d need to take to a Witch Shop soon, to sell it or get it cleaned.

“Yeah—sure, this is just… a lot.”

My dad chuckled.

“You’re telling me kiddo—I’m batting three for three at this point.”

I stomped hard on the inappropriate laughter that rose in my throat, but I couldn’t restrain my choked snort of hilarity.

“Adam!” Judith, pushed him to the other end of the couch, but she was smiling.

I felt my amusement fade.

“How’s Josh taking this?”

My dad shrugged, shoulders marginally more relaxed and I felt bad for letting my power build that high. Even people who weren’t sensitive could be put off by an animator’s aura.

“About as well as everything—your brother rolls with the punches like nothing can really hit him.”

Judith smiled and she finally took a sip of her coffee, grimacing and the low temperature.

“Do you know what he said after the teacher and recruiter sat him down with us to explain everything? ‘So—like, I can still play baseball, right?’” my dad continued.

Judith laughed and explained.

“Didn’t even turn a hair, just said that ‘there’s nothing to do about it now’,” she sighed, “I wish I could think like that.”

I felt myself smirk; Josh never let anything hold him down—I’d been devastated to learn I was an animator. Then again it was a different time, my gaze twitched between my parents—different attitudes then too. It was funny how much of a difference a decade made.

“Sounds like Josh.”

We sat there in silence for a moment.

My dad finished his coffee in one long swallow and stood.

“We have to get going—I have work tomorrow and Josh has an appointment with a specialist.”

Judith and I stood up at the same time. She went to the other room to grab Josh and I took an awkward step towards my dad. He ran a hand over the stubble at the back of his head, before huffing and pulling me into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry for putting this all on you honey, and thank you for helping us out.”

My throat clogged up and I sniffled. I didn’t let any tears fall though; I was a big tough vampire slayer after all.

“We’re family,” was all I could say and that meant something, no matter what troubles we’ve had with each other up to this point.

Ururu followed Judith and Josh back into the living room, even as Josh whined about leaving so soon.

“—already been around for, like, a week and I haven’t started with the evil laughing and slaughter. Can’t we stay for another hour? Please?”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me as Judith gave her harried answer.

“Absolutely not, all of us have to be up early tomorrow and we need to be home by a reasonable time.”

Josh whined some more but obediently put on his shoes after crushing me into one of his exuberant hugs. He didn’t forget Ururu either, happily assuring her that they’d keep in contact.

“Are you sure he’s dormant?” I asked, almost teasing to my father, “maybe his power is just being perpetually bright.”

My dad laughed and shrugged on his coat as Ururu and Judith traded words in the entryway. It was more like Judith talked and the girl stared at the ground and nodded at all the right times. My stepmother finally gave up and just squeezed the girl’s shoulder.

Everyone said goodbye and walked out the door, clicking it closed behind them quietly. Just like that, it was my new sister and I.

I shifted and went to go pick up the coffee cups scattered on my table. Ururu followed after me and picked up some as well.

Her wrists were so skinny.

I desperately went through a catalogue of what I might have to eat and came up disappointingly blank. I lived on microwave meals and takeout, heavy on the takeout these past few weeks. I had maybe two pickles and the condiments to make the perfect burger if I had anything to slap them on.

I checked my watch.

3:30pm, a perfect time to squeeze in between the lunch and dinner rush.

“You hungry?” I asked as I set the cups in the sink, waving at my sister to do the same.

Ururu made an affirmative sound as she looked at my nearly empty kitchen sink and my open and empty breadbox. She tapped on the slider and it dropped down with a small puff of dust.

I felt blood rush to my cheeks as she turned to me with a faintly amused look.

“I didn’t really have the time to go shopping,” I explained, trying to sound absolutely like the kind of functional adult that ate more than once a day. Ururu gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me for a second.

“Ten—Urahara-san did not cook, either; Tessai-san always handled the kitchen,” she explained with fondness tingeing her voice.

I deliberately didn’t show my surprise at her easy speech, I wondered if she just hadn’t wanted to speak in front of Judith and my dad. She’d been more than willing to talk to Josh, after all.

Urahara-san and Tessai-san must be whomever she’d stayed with before, maybe even the creatures that’d had her until the Bureau rescued her.

No need to push her so soon.

“Interesting,” I said, “grab your coat, there’s a sandwich place down the street.”

I paused in front of the coast closet.

“If you like sandwiches,” I tacked on.

Ururu nodded as I left the door to the closet open for her and grabbed my keys off the rack I hung next to the door.

I locked up behind us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to maintain a certain character for Anita, making her assumptive and confrontational without making her out to be in the right. I hope that came across alright and also I want to write an urban fantasy so bad you'll probably notice from all the unnecessary worldbuilding cuz this is fanfic and I have to find joy somewhere.


End file.
